Enyalie
by Etharei
Summary: *RE-WRITTEN* The time for Estel to learn of his heritage draws near, but is he ready for it? (CH4/?) Estel has it all: saddle-soreness, target practice, and a couple dozen orcs...
1. Concerning the Game

**Enyalie**

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Memory

2nd part of 'Son of Elves and Men' series.

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Author: Etharei

*My sincerest thanks to my beta, Halo Son.*

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Rating: PG-13 (for battle scenes and violence)

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Disclaimer: As hard as it is to believe, the beloved characters, places and languages featured in this fanfic actually belongs to Tolkien. I am not making any profit out of this, choosing instead to write out of the sheer pleasure of entertaining others with my stories. Anyway, they're Tolkien's, and I'm only borrowing them for a little while, though Aragorn and Legolas in particular would be a little worn out from all the stuff I put them through.

And please remember, this is _fan fiction_, written for fun and out of love for the stories and characters of JRR Tolkien's Middle-Earth. Not everyone has the same view on how things could have happened, so please don't flame me if you don't agree with my perspective. I try to keep in canon with the book, but obviously it is still _my_ view of events. If there are any major mistakes, I apologise in advance- please feel free to point out them out, though, and I'll see what I can do about them.

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Spoilers: If you've seen FOTR and TTT, then no worries, though I ultimately put the books above the movie. Just a note as the movies don't exactly follow the books all the time. May have some small Silmarillion references.

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Introduction to the Series

The_ Son of Elves and Men_ covers the years in which Aragorn Elessar learns important aspects of himself and prepares for his heritage and destiny. He is young, inexperienced, and is encountering the many evils of the world for the first time. I like to focus on his relationship with his family, especially Gilraen, who tends to be in the background in many of the stories I've read. I also look at how his upbringing amongst elves would have made him different from other men, though this will be more evident in later stories. And for those who like stories with them together, Legolas will come along eventually.

The very short list of stories in the series at the moment (in reading order):

Umea Indo

Enyalie

**Summary of Enyalie**

At the age of 19, the time draws near for Aragorn to learn about his heritage. Yet Elrond is reluctant to tell him, and awaits a sign to show that the time is right. Ultimately, the young human son of Elrond will have to make a choice that will determine the path of his life, and consequently the future of Middle-Earth.

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Featuring: Aragorn, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, *Rhuidal, *Érina, *Gunae

*Original Characters

**These events take place around 6 months after Edain.

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A great undercurrent in this series is the Game, a small idea that got out of hand, and now determines the course of each story…

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Concerning the Game

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"The board is set, and the pieces are moving. One piece that I greatly desire is Faramir, now the hair of Denethor."

- Gandalf speaking to Peregrin Took, 'Minas Tirith', Book V, Return of the King

Imagine a giant chessboard that encompassed all of Middle-Earth. The pieces are real lives, and a single round of the game may transcend time and space. Now multiply the number of boards, and that many are played at the same time, though not necessarily the same players, and that is a vague idea of the Game.

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"But the Enemy has the move, and he is about to open his full game. And pawns are likely to see as much of it as any, Peregrin son of Paladin, soldier of Gondor. Sharpen your blade!"

All the battles in Middle-Earth, all the defeats and victories, are all part of this elaborate 'Game' between the higher powers, though perhaps not rising to the level of Iluvatar. The battle between the Valar had nearly torn the world apart once, so the battle was taken far above the physical realm, and became a game of strategy and manipulation.

The Game is not as straightforward as it may seem- usually it's the furthest thing from it. For within apparent victory may lie a defeat that would not be known for centuries to come. An example would be Isildur's failure to destroy the ring. It seemed as if the Enemy, the Black Player, had won, and the Last Alliance was in vain, yet the Ring eventually passed on to a hobbit, perhaps a very big gamble on behalf of the White Players. Frodo and Gollum finished what Isildur could not. So had it been a defeat, or a victory? 

Choice. The element of choice is probably the most crucial part of the Game. The Game basically involves cunning maneuvering and tactics aimed towards 'convincing' the opponent's Key Piece to choose in one's favour. An example would be if White presents Black's Key Piece with the Choice of either to Live or Die. This Piece may one day save a thousand lives, or destroy them, and usually some aspect of their future is revealed to them, though seldom are these 'flashes' understood. The Choice must be made in the Piece's own free will, without any interference from the Players. After one Player presents the Choice to the opposing Key Piece, the other Player only has a limited time to present his.

Balance. It's another key element to the Game. For every Move one makes, the opposing Player gets a sort of 'credit' with which he can make a move using the same amount of power and level of interference. Because it works like a credit system, one can accumulate Moves; an opponent's many smaller moves may allow a Player one powerful Move. This works both ways. Also, if one side breaks the rules, the other is allowed a little leeway, and their moves during this time will not be sensed by the opponent.

As you can see, this concept is actually very complex and involved, and add in the fact that several Rounds of the Game are going on at the same time, it gets very confusing. The Rules bind the Players to the Game, and cheating or breaking of the Rules is met with painful punishment. The Round ends with either a victory/defeat, or a stalemate, and it's usually the latter. For a Player to win, both Key Pieces have to decide on that Player's favour. Otherwise it's a stalemate. Also, the Pieces tend to not remember the moment of Choice. They may remember having to make a choice that changed their lives, but not much besides that. Some exceptions might be made occasionally, but not much is known about them as they are private moments for the Pieces. 

Note that Black and White do not necessarily represent Evil and Good respectively, though most will see it that way. They are simply opposing forces, and I've titled them Black and White after the initial idea of a chessboard. Note that the Players for both sides change, and the Pieces change according to the situation. There have been many occasions where a Key Piece for one side in one Round may suddenly be the Key Piece for the opposing side in the next Round. But remember that in the end, though it is called the Game, it is truly a battle for Middle-Earth, and with each Move of a Piece, lives and battles may be lost, and destinies made. 

_[Please note that the Game is entirely made up, though it does give the stories a whole new dimension.]_


	2. To See

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Enyalie

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Memory

2nd part of 'Son of Elves and Men' series.

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Author: Etharei

*My sincerest thanks to my beta, Halo Son.*

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Rating: PG-13 (for battle scenes and violence)

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Disclaimer: Please see Concerning the Game

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These events take place around 6 months after _Umae Indo_.

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You don't necessarily have to read Umae Indo_ to understand this, but there are small tidbits that may be confusing if you haven't (aka a certain game between two well-known wizards). In any case, I suggest you read _Umae Indo_ first if you can._

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Author's Notes: 

Words in _italics_ (usually) indicate thoughts.

The language used by the characters {in 'real-life'} is stated at the beginning of each section. This isn't really a big deal except that in my mind Aragorn and the twins (for example) would not be speaking the same language as, say, the humans we will meet later on. Just imagine that I've translated their words from Sindarin and Westron into our standard English ;-)

For those of you who have read Umae Indo, you will notice that in this and in the subsequent stories, I do not mention the Players of the Game as often as I did in Umae Indo. This is because I've decided that it'll be more interesting to see if anyone can follow the Moves and counter-Moves between White and Black. Keep in mind that it still plays a big part in the story- it's just that I'm taking you down to the characters' point of view, not knowing what fate (or the Players, in most cases) will hand them next. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, refer to "Concerning the Game" on the Introduction chapter.

Apologies for my long absence! TTT has given me a new burst of inspiration, which will hopefully last for some time.For those of you who have read this before, please note that it's changed significantly, though some of the main bits still remain.

And a shout-out to **AfterEver**: Hope you're still out there, and still interested! Your critiques are much appreciated!

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Chapter One: To See

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[Sindarin]

In Middle-Earth a very long time ago, there was a great and powerful realm inhabited by the elves, fairest of all of Iluvatar's children, and the lord of this particular realm was Elrond Peredhil, Master of the Last Homely House. Quiet and peaceful I said, yet it seemed to the Master that ever since the birth of a certain pair of twins, and especially with the more recent addition to the family, Rivendell was anything but.

And at that moment Lord Elrond was discovering that he may have anough of the blood of Men in him to be subject to migraines.

His morning that day had been filled with a pile of paperwork that intimidated the Misty Mountains. Then some domestic matters that made him wonder if the Dark Lord had hatched a plan to rob his people of common sense, or whether they had any to begin with. Erestor had kindly reduced the size of his afternoon paper mountain, yet by lunch Elrond was in a foul mood as a thundercloud invaded his brain. Thinking that a walk in his private garden would calm his nerves, the day proceeded with him stepping on a sleeping skunk, startling the creature. Glorfindel got the sharp end of his vocabulary (which was quite extensive) as he helped Elrond scrub the gut-twisting stink off his skin. Incidentally, for some unfathomable reason, all his robes had been taken out that day for cleaning, and in the end Glorfindel simply stole one of Elladan's.

Even now the memory of the stink made him want to crinkle his nose.

"Haha! Beware, you foul beast of Sauron, for I am Beren, and I shall smite you to the ground!"

"Your words are nothing but sounds in the wind. Bow before me, and I may spare your wretched hide for my Master!"

CLACK! CLACK!

Ai, Valar, what had he done to deserve this?

CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!

Unable to resist, Elrond spared a quick glance out of the window of the family sitting room, only to decide that not watching was healthier for his remaining nerves. Still, he had no choice but to listen to Estel and Elrohir's mock battle with makeshift quarterstaffs. That was inviting disaster enough, yet somehow they had decided that this 'battle' should take place atop a _log_ in the _river_. Elladan, who usually had more sense than both his younger brothers put together, cheered them on from the bank whilst nursing his bandaged arm. The eldest of Elrond's children had been carried home a battered and bloody mess a month ago, and had just been allowed out of sickbed for short periods of time.

CLACK! THUD. CLACK! CLACK!

"Aiieee!!!"

"Estel!"

"ESTEL!!"

"ADA!"

Another thing commonplace in Rivendell: as soon as one son got out of sickbed, another one replaced him.

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Much later, Elrond was alone with Estel in the boy's sleeping chamber- a rarity when the twins were home. Estel had only fractured his ankle, so Elrond had to think up of something to prevent the human from climbing out of his balcony by next week out of sheer boredom. Elrond personally disliked prolonged bed rest, and often had to chase his patients out of bed; his sons, however, seemed to have a ingrained loathing of being restrained indoors.

"Stay in bed tonight, Estel, and I shall let you have dinner in the sitting room tomorrow."

"Yes, Ada."

Convinced that in his tired state the human wouldn't be going anywhere that night, Elrond took a good look at the human that he had adopted. With nineteen summers behind him, Estel still retained most of his teenage lankiness, and looked slightly out of proportion as he slowly ripened into adulthood. But Elrond could see the promise of more build, not to mention height.

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He will stand as tall as the twins one day.

"Ada, why am I here?"

Elrond hesitated for a moment. He knew that something had been occupying the boy's mind the last few days; recent events had made Estel realised that he may never truly be accepted amongst the people he grew up around. Many elves distrusted mortals, viewing them as weak and easily succumbed to greed and evil. Elrond had similar views once, yet how could he hold on to them when he adopted the direct descendant of the one human who had demonstrated the weakness of Men?

"Long ago I told you that you were not truly my son," Elrond began. He had prepared for this occasion some time ago. From underneath his robes he took out a small object and handed it to the boy, trying to ignore the memories that came with it. "This used to be Celebrian's; I hope she will help you with the truth. What you have known, now you must _see_."

Apprehensively, Estel inspected the object. It was a small mirror, with a rich wooden back, but no gold or ornament decorated it. He caught his familiar reflection in the mirror, and Estel wondered what his father was trying to tell him. But when he looked up at the Elf Lord, his next question died on his lips. The kindly face of his father, ageless yet familiar, was suddenly so very different from his own.

"You must face the truth Estel. Do not seek to hide from it, for how can one face the past if he cannot even accept the present?"

Staring at his reflection, Estel realised that although he had thought that he'd long ago accepted the fact that Elrond was not his father, in his heart he had refused to believe it. But in the image on the mirror was the undeniable truth, and he realised then that he can no longer pretend.

He suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable.

His real father had died when he was two.

He would never know him.

He would never know a part of himself.

Elrond. Elladan. Elrohir. The family he knew and loved. They were different, and one day they would have to leave them, for he was of the race of Men. Then he would be alone.

Oh, how he hated to be alone.

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When you are young, it is easier to postpone the truth, thought Estel as a lump formed in his throat. All the pain and hurt he had carried inside him from his childhood, at being excluded because he was of the race of Men, simply burst out of him, and he wept.

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"Estel! Is it true? Lord Elrond's not really your father?"

"Go away."

"It's true then! Ha! I always knew there was something wrong with you, Adan_!"_

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"Estel, we- we don't want to play with you anymore."

"But why?"

"Because you're Edain."

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"Are you the one they call Estel?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Adan_, stay away from our children, understand?"_

"Ye-yes, sir."

*

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"Ada?"

"Yes, Estel?"

"Can I please go to lessons now?"

"Of course. Just wait for a moment, I have some business to finish first, and then we can walk to the Healing Room together."

"Yes, Ada."

"Lord Elrond?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you let him call you that? Is he not of the Edain?"

"He is my son."

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Elrond watched as sobs racked the boy. He had dreaded this, but knew that it was best for Estel to face the truth now rather than later. Still, it pained his heart to see his son (_adopted son_ he mentally corrected himself) in distress, and he leaned forward and embraced the boy, whispering words of comfort as Estel wept on his shoulder.

He knew then, in a moment of foresight, that the time was near to tell Estel his heritage. But not yet. Not yet.

After a while, the boy's sobbing ceased, yet Elrond could feel the pain emanating from Estel, pain in the loss of a child's dream and pain at suddenly being sundered from the only family he knew. 

Though he had tried his best, Elrond couldn't stop the tauntings when the boy was younger, and had instead encouraged the boy's interest in books to keep him away from other elven children. Elladan and Elrohir (not to mention Glorfindel) were just as protective of the new addition to their family, and at least one of the twins kept him company most of the time. Instead of letting him learn with the other children, Elrond had also allowed his brothers and Glorfindel to teach the boy combat. Elrond knew that his over-protectiveness had led to Estel's solitary and quiet nature, which may be a problem if the boy was destined to be the King of Men, yet he felt that what he did was right. At any rate, Glorfindel had assured Elrond that Estel was a capable leader- it was just that he preferred not to be. 

Unfortunately, Elrond's over-protectiveness also resulted in Estel being strongly attached to the Elf Lord, and he could only imagine how it felt to be sundered from the only family he had in a world that didn't want him. Elrond being 'Ada' had always been very important to Estel, and, the Elf was startled to realise, to himself.

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I do not think I would survive the day I am not his Ada. The realisation rocked him to the very core of his being. 

Smiling kindly, Elrond mentally packed away this sudden revelation, and gently lifted Estel's tear stricken face to meet his eyes. 

"Yet often Hope comes to us unlooked-for." Elrond placed the boy's cold hand on his ageless face, and indicated that Estel look into the mirror again.

Reluctantly, the boy gazed at his reflection in the mirror. _So different,_ he thought despairingly, _I have no family. I am alone. _Tears threatened to flow again as he continued to gaze into his red, swollen eyes.

Eyes of grey and blue, like clouds of a storm on a clear day...

No, perhaps not _completely_ different.

He looked up at Elrond, then down at his reflection again. Yes, they had the same eyes. And... there was a hint or two in the jaw, the way he held his head, his hands. For a long while, Estel examined every feature on his face, which he had thought he knew very well, and of himself as a whole. He realised that he and his fa- Elrond actually had more features in common than he had ever believe. He wondered at this revelation.

"We are kin, Estel," Elrond explained. "And though I had not been overly willing at the beginning, it was not on a mere whim that I took in a young woman and her babe, and made her child my own."

Estel opened his mouth to speak, for a torrent of questions had just rushed through his head, but Elrond held up a hand. "I know many that there are many things that you will wish to know, Estel, but trust me when I say that now is not the time. One day I promise to tell you everything, yet for now I ask that you will be content with what I will tell you."

"There are many enemies in this world, most with no love for Men and Elves. You are of the race of Men, that you must also come to accept, though I told you long ago. The time of childhood is passing you by, young one, and soon you will be a Man. You will be venturing into the outside world, and many perils await you. You are of the Edain, yet the blood of the Eldar flows through your veins also, and we are kin, though distantly."

"And to answer your question," Elrond made sure that the young Man looked him in they eye, so that he may know that what the Elf Lord said was true. "You are here because you are Estel. I did not take you in willingly, for a shadow divides the races of Men and Elves now, but I do no regret doing so."

Elrond got up and walked to Estel's balcony. Earendil above shone brightly, as he always did on Rivendell, acknowledging his sons, the Lord of Imladris and the young Heir of Gondor.

"Always remember Estel, that first and foremost you are my son, and Elladan and Elrohir are your brothers. I love all my children dearly, and for that reason alone I would protect you whilst I can from the Shadow that grows in the lands beyond Rivendell. Yet my protectiveness comes not only from a father's love, though I would wish it did. You are... a very important person, Estel, especially to me and your brothers, yet also to many others. I cannot tell you much more, only give you my promise that I will when the time comes."

"I love you, Ada."

"I love you too, my Estel. Sleep now and rest."

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	3. Hearts of Fathers

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Enyalie

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Author: Etharei

Many thanks to my excellent beta reader, Halo Son

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Disclaimer: Please see Chapter One

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Author's Notes: 

Apologies for the slow pace of the fic, but I think it's essential in building up the characters. 

Words in _italics_ indicate thoughts.

The language used by the characters {in 'real-life'} is stated at the beginning of each section.

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Chapter Two: The Hearts of Fathers

[Sindarin]

Four months later...

"Ai, Elrohir, that was not fair!"

"You only say that when you are losing, brother."

"Come Elladan, let us show our brother that even his talent cannot withstand superior numbers."

"Now who is being unfair? Estel, don't you dare- Aiiiieeee!!!"

Elrond could only laugh out loud as he saw Glorfindel throw his hands up in disgust and - after quick consideration- retreat to a safe distance away from the splashes of water. 

What had started out as sparring practice between Estel and Elrohir had (as it usually did, more often than not) somehow evolved into a wet, brotherly brawl and even the more mature Elladan had joined the fray. Anyone watching would have thought the three were truly brothers; indeed, even Elrond had to keep reminding himself that Estel was mortal and did not have endurance of Elves, for sometimes the twins got too caught up in their own games. Although he had to admit that the twins usually instinctively knew when their younger sibling was pushing his limit.

Usually.

Perhaps he was being a little too over-protective, but Elrond felt that he should keep an eye on them whilst he still could. Just in case.

To be honest about it though, Elrond was very proud of his sons, and easily forgave these lapses into playfulness. He welcomed it even, for laughter was rare in days of growing shadow. After all, the trio were more than capable of handling themselves in battle, and even Glorfindel confessed that Estel had reached the point where anything else he could learn would be through his brothers and his own experience.

Of course, Elrond made sure that Estel learned from the best in Imladris: Glorfindel, Sulvaen, the twins, and Elrond himself. Quite a lot of the older elves had also participated one way or another in the boy's education, despite initial misgivings about teaching elven ways to a mortal. Once it was clear that Estel was going to be a permanent member of Elrond's family, it seemed as if the older elves secretly welcomed the sight of a youngster in Imladris; there were always too few children. Elrond himself had been quite surprised by how much he had missed having a child in the Last Homely House.

Estel had turned out to be a more than competent fighter, even by elven standards, and could rival Glorfindel at times with the sword. Yet the boy had taken more to lore and healing, much to Elrond's surprise and delight, for he was a master of both. So it was that Estel actually spent more time in the Healing Chambers and buried under a pile of scrolls than in the training yard.

And the twins didn't begrudge their brother's passion either (though sometimes they wished he was more social), for both had their own specialties outside of combat. Elladan, the best scout and fastest of the three, has inherited Elrond's subtlety in speech and mind, and often represented his father in negotiations. Elrohir, true to his name, was a master of beasts (particularly horses) and had inherited his mother's love of song and life, as well as her ringing laugh, and he was the best archer in Imladris.

Ironically, it seemed that of the three it was Estel who took after Elrond most in heart and mind, preferring healing to combat and seeking always to learn of the ways of the different peoples of Middle-Earth. His judgement was fair, and he also had Elrond's ability to see right through the hearts and minds of those around him. Even the twins flinched when those grey eyes were leveled at them in full force.

Sometimes Elrond felt that fate was being unjustifiably cruel.

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I had not wanted him, thought Elrond as he recalled the dark, windy night nearly twenty years ago. His dreams had spoken to him: _Beware of the Heir who will be King, for he will bring grief to the kin of Lùthien, and Hope to mortal Men. _

But doom had befallen him the moment he saw the babe in the arms of Gilraen, for though he always saw a shadow of his brother Elros in his distant predecessors, in Aragorn it had seemed as if his brother had returned from beyond Arda; how could Elrond refuse the one he had mourned in his heart for the past Age?

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Elros, how could you choose such a path? Why did you desert me?

At that moment the brothers spotted Glorfindel attempting to hide amongst some beeches, and succeeded in getting their mentor wet, though suddenly collectively decided to dive in the lake at the enraged look on Glorfindel's face.

Spluttering as he floated on the surface of the lake, Estel laughed at the comical sight of a dripping wet Glorfindel attempting to fish out Elrohir with a stick when the elf swam too close to the bank. Feeling his father's gaze, he looked up at the window out of which Elrond was watching them and waved. Elrond responded with a small wave and a resigned smile, which made Estel grin all the more.

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What do you mean? I am here. I have not deserted you.

Elrond blinked. It was what his twin would have said, and perhaps in a way it was true. The bond between them could not have been broken by all the ages of Middle-Earth, and thus it pained Elrond even more that his brother had chosen to part them. 

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And now you have given me Estel, only to have him taken away, too. His people are not mine, and one day he must return to them.

Yet you have reminded me that I could still love a child without my Celebrian. What joy you have given me, brother!

Thank you.

~*~*~

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[Westron]

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At the same time, a distance from Rivendell's southern frontiers...

"He will not make it, Rhuidal! We can stop here, they say that Lord Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell is a master of healing. Let us seek aid from him!"

"NO! Sauron take me before I let some Elven filth touch my son," the dark-haired man spat. "No, we will get there in time. We must."

Despite fraying tempers, the two Men kept their voices low so as not to disturb the figure in the wooden cart that was the object of their disagreement. 

It was a young boy, pale and sickly-looking, stirring restlessly in his fevered sleep. There was a deep gash on his forearm, still bleeding slightly despite being almost a day old. Infection had obviously set in, probably the cause of the victim's fever.

The small band of humans had been attacked just before dawn of that day by a band of orcs. The orcs seemed more intent on stealing necessities than harming the humans, yet the men protected the precious stores that would have to last them over the Misty Mountains. The defense had been fierce and largely successful, but a lone orc, larger than his brothers, had broken through the line of armed hunters and, faced with death, had attacked the closest vulnerable target- Alhur. Fortunately, the boy had quick reflexes and narrowly escaped a fatal blow. The orc was overwhelmed and slain, and the Men thanked their fortune.

Yet Alhur's wound would not heal, and still bled freely as the sun rose to midday. Eventually he fainted, and had to be carried in the cart as he would not wake and a fever raged through his young body.

The sun was now setting in the western horizon, and the group reluctantly halted and set up camp. Though Rhuidal was reluctant for the delay in stopping, he knew the folly of travelling in sheer darkness. He did not like his feeling of helplessness as he stood back and watched his son fall deeper into darkness. The most skilled in healing amongst them was Gunae, and the man had done all he could. Now his son's survival depended on them making it over the Misty Mountains to a larger settlement of their people in a hidden valley on the other side of the mountain range.

As the wagon stopped a young woman approached it and checked the boy.

"How is he, Érina?"

Rhuidal's elder daughter shook her head sadly. So, it was getting worse. And though he would never admit it, the prospect of losing his son made Rhuidal seriously consider for the first time seeking out the fabled elves of Rivendell, and this Master Elrond. But he quickly abolished the thought.

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Better to die than let Elvish magic touch you.

It was what his father had always told him. But for some reason his heart refused to agree.

~*~

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[Westron]

"Érina, don't stray so far! It's not safe."

The young woman spun around quickly and smiled at her obviously worried friend coming towards her.

"Meryn, the night is peaceful, and I am still within the camp. There is nothing to worry about." Noting her friend's disapproving glare, she added teasingly, "They say that at night, if you listen hard enough, you can hear the elves singing from hidden Imladris. I was hoping that I could."

Meryn snorted in disgust. "And they can keep on singing as long as they stay away from decent folk like you and me. Elves are wicked and untrustworthy. Ever since we were children you had an obsession with them, and I have always let it be. But one of these days evil will come of it, you mark my words."

"I do not think that elves are wicked," said Érina softly. "I would very much like to meet one, as a matter of fact."

Another snort. "Your father will scrub your mouth out if he hears you talking like that. You know he thinks that Gunae's a bad influence on you."

Érina hid a sigh of relief as what was turning out to be an unwanted debate was interrupted by a call from Meryn's mother for more firewood. With a resigned shake of her head, Meryn stalked off. 

"I remember a time when children trusted their parent's judgement before their own," a familiar voice teased. Érina smiled, though she did not look at the old man emerging from one of the tents on outskirts of camp.

"Aye, and there was also a time when the Elder were held in honour and love, instead of fear and hatred. Besides, I am following a parent's judgement- my mother's."

Gunae nodded thoughtfully. "Aye, she did. She would ask me about them all the time, and at night her eyes would turn towards the stars in longing."

Érina's eyes were sad. "I once asked her if she was an elf." Her face was tired. "But times have been dark of late, since she died. And I sense that darker times are coming."

"Aye, dark times are coming." Sometimes Gunäe suspected that Érina had Elvish blood, and of all his people he trusted her most, sharing with her all his knowledge of healing, battle, and particularly elves. Her mother had been one of the most beautiful women he had ever known, and even Rhuidal had mistaken her for an elf-maiden when they first met. Gunae remembered that day; he had been the village healer for twenty years then, and had officiated at their wedding a few months later. Their love for each other ran deep, and her untimely death had marked her husband and children.

"Until fate proves it otherwise, I will not believe that Elves are evil." Érina resembled her grandmother on Rhuidal's side of the family, but her eyes and spirit were all from her mother. Especially her stubbornness

Gunäe chuckled. "Your father was right when he called me a bad influence. People say that you are your father's daughter, yet in this you have always been at odds."

"I am old enough to believe what I choose, am I not?" she sniffed, and turned to leave.

The old man sighed. "A good night to you, daughter of Rhuidal."

"Good night, Iaur Atan."

The old man watched Érina walk towards the centre of camp, and was about to follow when he suddenly stopped. He cocked his head to one side, and anyone watching would have thought he was trying to listen to something. At length he smiled, and lovingly gazed at the clear night sky. The voices of the elves carried him to an Age long past, where in his mind he could see the beauty that was no more.

"Ai Eärendil, estel i Dúnedain." 

And for a moment, starlight illuminated him.

~*~*~

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Ai Eärendil, estel eni Dúnedain- Hail Eärendil, hope of the Dúnedain!


	4. Acceptance

**Enyalie**

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Author: Etharei

_*Many thanks to my excellent beta reader, Halo Son*_

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Disclaimer: Please see Chapter One

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Author's Notes: 

Words in _italics_ indicate thoughts.

The language used by the characters {in 'real-life'} is stated at the beginning of each section.

Thanks, Arabella Thorne! I'm so glad that you're still following it :-D 

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**_Chapter Three: Acceptance_**

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[Sindarin]

"Is aught wrong, Master Elrond?"

Elrond, hiding his surprise at having been startled, turned and smiled at the young woman approaching him. Gilraen was beautiful with her dark hair and delicate hazel eyes, but sorrow was etched deeply into her features, for she still mourned Arathorn even after 17 years. Elrond knew that seeing her son grow up with another as his father must have been painful for her, and perhaps that was why she was becoming absent from Estel's life of late. It had been a gradual fading into the background, and Elrond doubted if anyone else besides him had noticed. The elf lord sadly realised that she may no longer even see Estel as her son- her dreams of family had been crushed the day the orc-arrow claimed her husband's short life.

"No, Gilraen, I was simply thinking." She joined him, standing upon one of the balconies in Rivendell that overlooked the great waterfalls. He often came here when he was in need of solace and space to think. 

There had been a distance between himself and the Dunadan once, but over the past year since a particularly unpleasant ordeal that still remained mostly a mystery to him, they had spoken more, and he had come to rely on her judgement. There was a shared feeling of responsibility between them now, a responsibility for protecting the hidden Heir of Isildur. And as he had come to see Estel as his own son, Gilraen, in her own way, had 'adopted' the twins. He remembered his shock and amusement at the first time he saw Gilraen's power over the twins in action. He had been walking to his study at a leisurely pace and had spotted an imminent disaster: Erestor with a mountain of parchment in his hands racing down an adjacent corridor, and a flash of dark hair betraying the twins' hidden positions further down the hall. Before he could step in, however, Gilraen had appeared, sending a most intimidating scowl at the twins' direction. Elrond laughed outright at the image of the twins- both at least a head taller then Gilraen- cowering against the wall as the human woman gave them a blistering tirade in a cool voice that tolerated nothing. For days after, Elrohir in particular lost his mischievous grin whenever he saw her.

For a while neither spoke. "Your son is growing into a fine young Man, my Lady. You should be proud of him; one day I foresee that he will become a great leader of his people, mayhaps even claim the throne of Gondor and Arnor." 

She sighed heavily. The years seemed to weigh on her heavily that night. "That path he must choose for himself, and he must choose without knowing the path," she spoke softly, but with the surety of the foresight of the Dùnedain- a legacy, perhaps, of Elros. "And I shall not see it."

A chill went through Elrond. She was in a strange mood tonight, and he recognised it as similar to one who is acquainting herself to what fate had in store for her. Foresight brought knowledge, but more often than not this knowledge was more of a burden than a blessing. 

"Will you leave us so soon, Gilraen?" Elrond had always suspected that Gilraen's sorrow, buried deep but never deep enough, would eventually claim her; yet he had hoped that she would at least see her son crowned the King of Men, and know that her years of carrying her grief were not in vain.

"Nay. I will tarry but a while longer, yet Estel is _your_ son now, Master Elrond. Bringing my people's King into this world is a great honor, yet I do not know if it is worth the price to me."

Then he knew, and understood her sudden formality. She had been hinting it often. She wanted him to tell Estel of his heritage. He himself knew that the time was drawing near, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"He is not my son," he said softly. "Whatever I say, my people still see him as a Man, not as the son of their Lord. And sometimes… sometimes I wonder if it would be better for him to live with his own kind."

Gilraen's eyes blazed. "His _own kind_? Elrond, he is an elf, in all aspects of the word, save blood! He will be even more of an outsider amongst his 'own kind' than he had ever been here! Nay, his place is _here_, with _his_ _people_."

"Gilraen," he tried to reason with her. "I know what you wish of me. But I… I cannot tell him. I wish to, yet I cannot help wondering if he will not be happier not knowing. We cannot be sure that he will be the one!" Even to his ears the last statement sounded false; he had known from the first day he had held Aragorn in his arms, and thus named him Estel.

Gilraen's voice softened. Slightly. "Do not deny your heart, Master Elrond. I concede that it is not yet time for him to know, but do not let your love for him affect your judgement. He will be safer knowing, for the Enemy will know _of_ him, come time. He cannot stay here forever, Elrond."

Elrdon refused to meet her in the eye. Her words rang true, though he was puzzled as to what purpose she wanted to speak to him for, if not about telling Estel his heritage.. "What would you have me do, Gilraen?" He decided that looking at his father's star might steady his mind, yet even Earendil seemed distant that night. "I have given him my love and my home. I feel it is not enough, yet what else can I do?"

She was calm now, even managing to look a little sympathetic. It seemed an eternity before she eventually spoke. "Accept him into your House. Make him a Prince, equal to Elrohir."

Elrond froze. His first thought was that the idea was ludicrous. It was; granting a human the title of an elf-prince! The implications of it were enormous. 

Yet… he would do it. For some reason it no longer mattered what the other elves thought. He was willing to break a thousand years' tradition! The thought almost made him grin- particularly Thranduil's reaction to it. It might even warrant a blink of surprise from Galadriel. 

Maybe Celebrian had been right in saying that the twins took after their father…

"Thank you, Gilraen," he said softly, only to realise that the young woman had already disappeared. She knew she had won the day Estel first called Elrond Ada.

~*~*~

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The next morning...

"Are you ready, brother?" Elrohir poked his head into Estel's room as the he completed his inspection of his pack.

"I am now," replied the grinning human. Though their latest mission wasn't the most important or interesting one that he had volunteered on, nonetheless he felt thrilled to be out in the world again. Elrond would have credited his age for this exuberance, but Estel knew that his brothers, over a thousand years his senior, were feeling the same excitement. As much as they loved Imladris, the brothers were not made for staying indoors.

Three horses awaited them at the main entrance to the Last Homely House, one of which already bore Elladan. Elrond and several other elves of the household were also there to see them off. What Estel had not expected was his mother being there as well. 

Though her constant companion Lauremir was beside her, Gilraen stood a little apart from the other elves. She greeted him with a small smile as she saw him approaching. Taking her leave of Lauremir, she beckoned for Estel to follow her and walked a fair distance from the group. It was apparent that the young woman wanted a quiet word with her son alone, so the elves kept their distance.

"There is something important that I must give to you. But first… Something ails your heart, my son. I feel that there is naught I can do to help you, yet will you open your heart to me?"

Estel, in his childhood, had always wondered if his mother had the ability to read minds. Perhaps that was a bit far-fetched, yet he knew that Gilraen could always tell if he was lying, of keeping something from her.

"You have never spoken much about my real father, mother. I wish to know more about out family."

She gazed at him in silence before speaking. "Will anything I say make you feel any differently towards your brothers and Lord Elrond?"

"No, of course not."

"Though many things I may perceive differently from Master Elrond, in this I follow his counsel. I believe that he has spoken to you about an important role you must play, yes?"

Estel nodded.

She smiled sadly at him, and Estel saw anguish in her eyes when she spoke again. "Master Elrond is your father now, Estel, as are Elladan and Elrohir your brothers. Your father is gone, and I will not be here forever."

Gilraen clasped his hand in hers._ So tall now_, she thought, _almost a Man. The time is almost upon him. Valar, such a sacrifice I make for my people! _Memory flashed before her, as it often did lately. _So much like my dear Arathorn. But he is Estel, and will always be. He is not mine. _Her heart clenched, but she pushed aside the never-ending grief in her heart. In her hand she held a small brooch, which she passed to Estel- and further separated herself from the child that was no longer hers.

"Lord Elrond wishes for you to have this. For elves, it is traditionally given when they come of age, but we feel that you should have yours now."

The brooch was small and surprisingly light. Estel gasped as he saw the insignia design on it. A six-pointed star in the centre branched off into a leaf shape, and it was fashioned in silver and mithril. But what had shocked Estel the most was the circlet in a tree motif that encircled the insignia.

She grinned at him now. "Hail, Estel son Elrond, Prince of Imladris!"

His jaw dropped. For a long time he could only stare at the delicate-looking brooch on the palm of his hand. He was beyond stunned. The insignia was that of the House of Peredhil, the circlet indicating further that the bearer was of the ruling family.

"Ammë… I… I cannot accept this!" he stammered.

"And why is that?" she said cooly. "You are as much a son of Elrond as Elladan or Elrohir, and is not Elrond the Lord of Imladris?"

"But Ammë! I'm... I'm..."

"Adan? Of the race of Men?" she shook her head in apparent amusement. "And I thought that you had learnt to see past such trivial matters. But you must take the brooch, Estel. Do not wear it openly outside Rivendell, for that would only attract unwanted attention. But you must have it on you always, a symbol of your true family. You shall be needing it in this journey, for I see much shadow and doubt, and ere the end of it you will make a choice in darkness." She kissed his brow. "No more can I say, and I bid you go with words of wisdom: Honour the blood in your veins, yet forget not that Elrond raised you as his own, and that Rivendell will always be your home."

Estel slowly nodded his understanding, and kissed the brooch in his hand before carefully pinning it on one of his inside tunics. "Thank you mother. I do not understand your words, but I trust your foresight. I only pray that one day I will be blessed with your wisdom."

She laughed, though this time her voice was tinged with sadness, and she kissed his brow and gave him her blessing. "You will, my son, though you may not think it a blessing. Fare you well, and return home when you may."

Silently they returned to the elves. Estel could see the curiosity in his brothers' eyes, but the twins knew when matters were not their business.

Elrond also had words to say, and father and son spoke quietly as Elrohir caused his version of a farewell joke by showing off his brand new bow and splitting some oranges thrown in the air. Unfortunately, the oranges also splattered onto the elves below. Estel wondered if Elrond sometimes employed his sons to develop an urge for a prank when an interruption to tediously long diplomatic negotiations was desperately needed.

"Thank you for the brooch, Ada."

Elrond smiled, imagining that Estel had probably been very reluctant to accept the insignia. He was still concerned on how his more conservative subjects would take this breach of tradition. But he was tired of listening to the opinion of others, and his heart could no longer be denied He loved and thought of the mortal as his own son, and by the Valar other elves should recognise this.

"It is but a brooch, my son. It is you that matters most. Though your mother had not specifically said so, I deem that she sees your need for it in the future." He winked. "She is still not so skilled at dressing her words as she things. In any case, if silver and mithril will bring you home safely, gladly will I pay ten score the price for my son."

Finally, all was ready (the twins co-incidentally ran out of oranges when Elrond and Estel broke apart). Estel mounted Fea, a spirited elven-bred chestnut mare with a proud bearing. The elves of Imladris bade them farewell and safe journey in turn, and Elrond himself addressed the three siblings.

"Once again my sons do their part in keeping the Shadow at bay. Pray return safely and speedily, and remember always that Eärendil above watches over you and will guide you home when all other lights fade."

The last part was directed to Estel, for in truth Elrond was troubled at heart, and had begun to sense the darkness on this mission that doubtless Gilraen had long foreseen. The Lord of Imladris sent a silent prayer to the Valar for his beloved sons' safe return.

~*~*~


	5. Brothers and Battles

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Enyalie

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Memory

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Author: Etharei

Many thanks to my excellent beta reader, Halo Son

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Disclaimer: Please see Chapter One

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Author's Notes: 

Words in _italics_ indicate thoughts.

So far, conversations between characters in Rivendell are actually in Sindarin; conversations outside Rivendell are in Westron.

I know, I know, yet _another_ title change. Really sorry, but I can almost guarantee that this will be the final change. If anyone wants to know, it's because I had originally planned for all the titles to be in Sindarin, but then felt that it was more appropriate for them to be in Quenya. In any case, I haven't changed the chapters themselves.

Thank you to all of you who have been following this- hopefully it's going to get exciting soon! To Arabella Thorne: Elrohir wonders too, and I reckon Elrond wanted a formal setting, but Gilraen had bullied him into giving it to Estel earlier. She can see what's ahead of him (for that matter, so can I ;-) but I guess it's 'cuz I wield the mighty pen) and the brooch has a subtle but very defining part later on in the story. Trustingfriendship, I guess it's an attempt to ease things for her, by placing a seemingly cold barrier between herself and 'Elrond's son'. Keep in mind that I'm actually describing things from a character's POV most of the time.

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For those of you who have read Edain, you will notice that in this and in the subsequent stories, I do not mention the Players of the Game as often as I did in Edain. This is because I've decided that it'll be more interesting to see if anyone can follow the Moves and counter-Moves between White and Black. Keep in mind that it still plays a big part in the story- it's just that I'm taking you down to the characters' point of view, not knowing what fate (or the Players, in most cases) will hand them next.

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Chapter Four- Brothers and Battles

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[Sindarin]

The sun was shining, the wind was cooling, and the sons of Elrond were having what Glorfindel had once termed a "politically philosophical discussion". The topic of the day was Elladan's potential for marriage.

The debate stood as thus: Elladan was protesting vehemently against his twin's suggestion of finding him a wife. His arguments ranged from making an ineffective husband because of his duties as a High Prince, to his supposed lack of skill with the sword, apparently "nothing to impress a maiden with". All of which were, of course, countered by Elrohir with the ease of long practice. Even Estel was getting drawn into it; the excitement of being in the Wild had begun to wear off after the first night, and he welcomed the twins' wrangling if only to keep his mind off saddle-soreness. When he inquired as to the reason Elrohir chose such a topic – earning a warning glare from Elladan – the younger twin explained that there was a maiden of "particular interest" residing in Mirkwood who would make the ideal political marriage.

It was amusing, to say the least. Estel knew that Elrohir would sooner marry an orc that let his brother get into an unwanted marriage; on the other hand, he was perfectly capable of having Elladan flocked by elf-maidens, all clamoring to be the future Lady of Imladris, with the slightest whisper in the right direction, and this Elladan knew too well.

"What think you, Estel?" Elrohir said, glancing his direction.

"Hmmm." Elrond had once commented that Estel had both the mischievous impulses of Elrohir and the sober propriety of Elladan, and he now felt those two polarities arguing within him. "I will have to observe this maiden myself if I am to make an educated decision."

Chuckling at Elladan's resigned expression, Estel returned his thoughts to the mission. Earlier he had been reading the reports written by their father concerning the 'danger zones' for orc ambushes in the Misty Mountains, preparing himself should he be questioned personally upon their arrival at Mirkwood. Though this was unlikely, considering the Mirkwood elves' opinion of his race, he decided not to take chances, as a representative of Imladris could not afford to seem ignorant. His brothers would not even need to refer to the reports, as they had ridden with most of the scouting parties and were the ones to give Elrond the information for the reports. 

The twins commanded their own band of 30 elves each, befitting the children of a realm-lord, as well as holding rank in the military hierarchy of Rivendell. Though he wasn't sure, Estel thought they held the titles of Captain, under Glorfindel, the Captain-General. In situations of open war, all warrior-elves in Rivendell, down to the newest recruit, had a position in the military hierarchy, commanded by Elrond himself. Unlike men, elves did not inherit their positions in that hierarchy, and rise in rank was usually due to prowess in battle. Even Elladan and Elrohir had to begin as recruits, though they did get the marginal advantage of specialised training from their father and Glorfindel. Each elf knew more or less the rankings of their comrades in arms, for should their leaders fall in battle, the next elf down in rank present could assume command.

It would be a special case for him, Estel knew. He would never be able to gain enough experience in his lifetime to rise far in the ranks, and there was always the unwritten but strong tradition that the children of a realm-lord who chose to become warriors would have at least a squad of their own to command. He wondered if he should spare his father the challenge of finding a solution to this (as he would undoubtedly try to, Estel knew) by choosing to be a healer instead. Truth be told, he was better at it than most elves, and in times of war, healers were just as vital to a realm as its warriors. And it would be appropriate, as Elrond, who had apparently been a very accomplished swordmaster in his time, had put aside his weapons (for the most part, anyway) and was now acknowledged as the greatest healer of this Age.

Yet something told him that that would not be his future.

~*~

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[Sindarin]

"Are you certain about this, Estel?"

"Just do it, Elrohir!"

"Father will have your hide if anything happens to Estel."

The sons of Elrond were resting on the outskirts of a patch of wood, the open plains on one side with the formidable peaks of the Misty Mountains beyond, and a line of slightly scraggly trees on the other. And at that moment, Estel was balanced precariously atop a rock facing Elrohir, who was ten paces away, anxiety on his face as he held his bow loosely.

"Be quiet, Elladan. And besides, aren't you the eldest and therefore responsible for your unruly siblings?"

"I know not what you mean, brother mine. I have suddenly developed an infatuation on Estel's lovely horse here, and you two are taking advantage of my indisposition. Furthermore, I am not aware of your little stunt."

[snigger, snigger]

"Estel, hold still!"

"I c-ca-can't. Look, e-even Fea's l-laughing!"

[snigger, snigger] 

[neigh]

At that point Estel gave up and fell to the ground laughing.

"Watch it brother, you've just had lunch."

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Some time later...

"Let us try this again."

"Ready."

Twang! Twang! Twang!

Three graceful arrows shot towards Estel. The young human's face was somber as he concentrated on the arrows. His knife was in his hand.

With reflexes borne of growing up amongst elves, Estel successfully deflected the first two arrows. He was then supposed to catch the third arrow mid-flight and shoot it back at Elrohir. But as he barely managed to deflect the second arrow, Estel knew he would not be fast enough to catch the third.

THUNK!

The handle of Elladan's dagger knocked the arrow off course, and it spun harmlessly out of the way. Estel sighed mournfully.

"Worry not overmuch, my brother," Elrohir said good-naturedly as he picked up his arrows and checked them for damage. "You improve each time. A few more practices and you will be showing off to Ada."

"I would not advise it," Elladan commented with a smile. He stopped sharpening Elrohir's knives and re-sheathed them. "It might not be good for his continued health."

Estel grinned at them, but his heart was heavy. He loved his brothers dearly, and was still awed by elves even after growing up amongst them, but lately he had been getting this… _need_ to prove himself. He was very puzzled by this, as it was usually his nature to avoid being the centre of attention. The first time he bested Glorfindel with the sword had been met with a small celebration in the family sitting room, but no more, and he preferred it that way. Or so he thought. But lately he would become irritated if one of his brothers beat him at archery or tracking; it happened too often for his liking, yet logically he knew that there was no helping this, as his brothers were gifted with far superior elven senses. 

He wondered if he was going through one of those "hormonal imbalances" Erestor had once told him about.

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You are human. You do not deserve to be with them.

Sometimes he would wonder what it would have been like to grow up as a human, amongst Men. What his life would have been if his father hadn't died…

Though such thoughts came unbidden, and had no encouragement from him in forming, he was nonetheless ashamed of even thinking such things. As grateful as he was for the one who sired him, Elrond had given him a home and a loving family, against the wishes of his own advisors. He should be grateful, not wishfully thinking of another life. He wondered if these thoughts weren't a product of his dreams. They had been too dark of late.

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You are a mortal. You will be the bane of these elves you love.

Evidently some of his internal distress registered on his face. "Is ought wrong, Estel?" asked Elrohir in concern.

Estel forced a grin to his face. "Yes, all is well, 'Rohir. I was only thinking."

"Well tell us when you are done thinking, so you can get on with showing us what you've been hiding under that tunic of yours since we left home." 

At Elladan's raised eyebrow, a real grin lit his face, and he pulled out the brooch. He kept it in a small pocket on the inside of his innermost tunic, as near to his skin as he could get it, and took it out at night when he thought that the twins couldn't see. He held it out on his palm now, unable to resist a small glow of happiness. Cunningly crafted with mithril and silver, it looked as if he could crush it in his hand, but he knew that even the strongest hammers would barely dent it. 

Very symbolic of the elves, in a way. 

The twins breathed in slightly more sharply than normal. Obviously, of all the things they had suspected Estel was hiding, it didn't involve this. Simultaneous smiles graced their faces, and they looked at Estel in joy.

"Ada." Elrohir said in wonder, looking at his twin. "I had hoped, but… Elbereth, can you imagine Thranduil's face when he learns of this? I wonder why Ada didn't have the traditional presentation ceremony?"

"I'm not sure," Estel said. He hadn't really thought about that, and now pointedly ignored the sudden sting to his pride as irrational thoughts, all of which ran along the lines of "Ada doesn't think I'm worthy enough for one", raced through the back of his mind. He couldn't understand it. For the most part he was ecstatic about his father's acknowledgement of his worth and his place in the realm, yet some alien part of him wanted _more_.

He wondered if he was ill.

He nearly jumped when Elrohir looked at him, and suddenly bowed formally as if to an equal. "We are honoured to have you in our company, my _Prince_."

Estel returned the bow with his long-practiced one, but Elrohir stopped him before his body dip too far. "Not so low, Estel. We are equals, and thus your greeting cannot be any more or less than mine." 

Feeling self-conscious and wondering if he'd ever get used to his new title, Estel tried again, adding, "It is I who is honoured to be graced by your wisdom, my Prince." 

Elladan was shaking his head and let his eyes dart quickly to the sky, the elven equivalent of rolling one's eyes. Though the eldest son of Elrond could get as mischievous as his twin, and often did at home, Elladan was the more sensible one of the three if them, and kept their 'merry-making' within decent limits. He also maintained had this ethic of not partaking in any merry-making when they not at home and when they had visitors. Thus, most elves outside the household thought of Elladan as a gentle-spoken, formal elf, befitting his title as heir to Imladris.

Inspired, Estel and Elrohir flashed a grin at each other and bowed to their older brother, dipping deeper than they had for each other.

"Hail, High Prince of Imladris!"

Within a few minutes, the horses continued grazing quietly whist being entertained with the sight of their masters haring down the plain, elven customs and hormonal imbalances forgotten. 

Far above, a dark speck circled thrice, then wheeled off towards the Mountains.

~*~

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[Sindarin]

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Your 'brothers' will die because of you! 

Leave them, if you wish them to live.

Estel woke suddenly, his hand automatically gripping the hilt of his sword. A quick sweep of their small camp told him that the night was peaceful, yet he had woken up for no apparent reason, and that was troubling enough. His sharp eyes spotted Elladan on the watch some distance from their dying fire, his slender form hardly a shadow in the clear night. Estel noted the elder twin's tense body, and his unwavering gaze towards the dark shadows that were the Misty Mountains.

"How is the night, brother?" he asked softly, not wishing to wake the other twin.

Elladan shook his head, seeming slightly surprised that the human was awake, though he didn't move his eyes. "Peaceful, from what my senses tell me. Nothing that I can see or hear, yet there is unease in the lands around us. I had thought it only a shadow of fear in my heart, but if it woke you...."

For a moment the two were silent, and Estel followed his brother's gaze towards the formidable mountain range. They had made good progress in the past three days, travelling south whilst keeping the Mountains in their line of sight. Their plan was to reach the Gap of Rohan where they would turn north-east, skirting along the edges of Fangorn and Rohan. Then they were to meet up with a Lorien party that would journey with them towards Mirkwood. Their main mission was to exchange news with the other elven realms, particularly updating maps on orc and goblin trails. Quite routine for the twins, with the only difference being that it was to be Estel's first time in Mirkwood, and the twins usually brought more elves with them. But orc activity had decreased significantly in the Mountains, and Elrond had agreed with the twins in that it was safe enough for a party of three to journey, since they weren't even going near the Mountains.

And orcs didn't usually travel in the open plains. Usually.

Elladan gasped, in a heartbeat his sword was drawn and held ready. Estel drew out his own sword and jumped out of his sleeping pallet, nudging Elrohir with his foot as he did so. Awareness flashed through the silver-grey eyes, and in a second he had joined his brothers with an arrow drawn and his bow held at ready.

Not a moment too soon, for in the next second several arrows flew at them from three different directions. Lightning reflexes saved them, though Estel felt the wind from one that would have pierced his wrist had he not moved sooner.

"I think there is trouble," Elrohir calmly.

Even as he strained his eyes trying to see their attackers in the sheer darkness, for there was no moon that night, Estel thought he spotted Elladan look tempted to nock his twin's head with the hilt of his sword..

As it turned out, Elrohir's words _were_ a bit of an understatement.

Fortunately for the brothers, orcs make a lot of noise when attacking. At least to elves they did, but then Estel felt that even a family of snoring dwarves made less noise than an orc trying to be stealthy.

As it was, Estel was able estimate the number of their foes by the racket they were making, and mentally concluded that perhaps knowledge was quite a welcomed thing in some cases. He estimated that there were at least two score, and as he didn't know where they were coming from (for Elladan would almost certainly had noticed them had they been travelling over the open country) doubtless that was only a starting figure. Orcs didn't attempt a raid on armed elves without sufficiently outnumbering them.

Instinctively the three brothers shifted closer to each other, back to back in a circle around their camp. A low whistle from Elrohir sent their horses galloping off to a safer standpoint, where they could return when called. A couple of arrows were fired at them, but the orcs on the whole were more interested in the trio.

A large burly orcs rushed at Estel. The young mortal tensed, bracing to block the attack, only to pivot on one foot and spin away at the last moment as one of Elrohir's arrows suddenly protruded from the orc's neck. With the momentum from his spin, Estel beheaded the smaller orc that had been creeping up on Elrohir's unprotected back with a dagger in hand.

After the first few orcs went down the fighting became more intense. The young human parried, spun, cut, thrusted with a speed nearly matching his elven brothers'; but for every orc that was cut down three more took its place. Years of training together had made them sensitive to each others' moves, and they fell into the dance, the weaving in and out of each other, their practiced moves timed perfectly. To be a second early or late would have ended with a dagger in the throat, and not from the orcs. Their moves complimenting but not hindering the others'; Estel and Elladan with their swords and Elrohir with his knives - he had abandoned his bow after the first onslaught - , survival depended on trust.

Despite the odds, Estel began to feel that they might come out of it alive.

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Then again, Ada always said I was an optimist.

He pulled his dagger from between an orc's shoulders and threw it at Elladan. The spinning blade barely missed the elf's fair face before slamming into the head of an orc rushing towards elder twin, who was occupied with two other attackers. But the human did not even see his dagger hit its target, for his eyes met with Elrohir's. As the handle of the dagger left his fingers Estel ducked, rolled and skewered an orc as he jumped back up. At the same time Elrohir beheaded an orc where Estel had been standing moments before.

Beheading another orc, the young human chanced a quick glance at the sky. Yes... the night sky was lightening, and Estel could sense the approach of dawn. 

It seemed that the orcs felt it too. Their attack became less fierce, and in the growing light there no longer seemed to be that many of them left; which was fortunate, since Estel was beginning to feel the weariness in his muscles. He knew that his brothers, who did not look half as tired as he, would compensate, but it irked his pride.

Soon it became apparent that dawn was at hand, and some of the orcs decided to start retreating. In the growing light the brothers could see where the orcs were coming from; they were disappearing into a hole in the ground underneath a dead tree not far from them. Small wonder they had not seen them approach. Estel had only time for a glance, however, for a near miss to his head by an orc scimitar reminded him that there were still enemies around them.

As the light grew, more and more orcs opted to return underground, and as the first rays of the sun peeked from behind the mountain range, the brothers were dispatching the last of their assailants.

With enormous relief Estel finally cut down a particularly challenging orc. Weary and hungry, he sheathed his sword and looked around for his brothers, in his mind going over what they should do about the hole and tunnel from which the orcs had come from. It had been apparent that this tunneling was a new thing, and could be the explanation for the sudden decrease in orc numbers in the mountain range.

It was then that he noticed an orc pointing its crossbow at him. The orc was barely standing and missing most of a leg, but its baleful glare made the human's blood run cold.

It's finger crooked. Estel's eyes could see only the steely tip of the crossbow bolt. 

Try as he might, he couldn't move.

Time stopped.

The orc released the bolt.

~*~*~

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PS- I haven't read any books that gives specific details about this, so in my mind, elven military had a slightly different structure to that of Men.

And for those of you confused by the 'random' thoughts popping up everywhere, it's a sort of leftover from the line of thought I took in Umae Indo (also known as 'Edain'). Don't worry too much about it, but if you're curious you can always pop over there to have a look.


	6. Apologies

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Enyalie

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Attention: I've temporarily suspended this story!

The main reason for this is because someone else is currently writing a story that has essentially the same plot, and better than I can, I'm sure. I won't reveal who this is. I've actually written at least half of the story already, and if I find it's worth continuing, then I will start updating again after some time has lapsed since the end of the other story (already it's approaching the last few chapters). **Many, many apologies** to those who were looking forward to the rest of this! Don't worry, hopefully in a couple of months I might have this up and running again, but for now, I'll let the other story finish and focus on my other stories in the meantime.

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Thank you so much for all your kind reviews, and I'm really sorry for this!


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